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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27777154">Prometheus, Punished</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/arisinnin/pseuds/arisinnin'>arisinnin</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Frankenstein - Mary Shelley, The Glass Scientists (Webcomic)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Creator/Creation - Freeform, Dr. Frankenstein is called Victoria, F/M, could be read as platonic, novel-typical allusions to death, takes place before canon, yeah she's still eating lizard guts before n after this</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-11 00:07:01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>512</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27777154</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/arisinnin/pseuds/arisinnin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A short character study about the Modern Prometheus and her flame.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dr. Frankenstein/Creature, The Creature &amp; Dr. Frankenstein (The Glass Scientists)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Prometheus, Punished</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So I am Very much a fan of Victor/Creature in proper frankenstein fan fashion, so I was a little surprised to find no one had written anything for Ms. Victoria Frankenstein and her creation from tgs when it literally says they'd been spending so many years alone in complete solitude together. Like,, come on, subtext, people. </p>
<p>So, without further ado, a page or so of something dramatic and hastily written and kinda angsty.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>She traced his hands, larger than that of any man born of flesh and blood. Weighty and meticulously crafted, each nerve and tendon had been salvaged and sewn back together to make something bigger, something </span>
  <em>
    <span>warmer. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She still remembered the smell of death as though it still now surrounded her, as though she were still in Germany, in Ingolstadt, as though she had never left her apartment where she committed her parodied original sin. As though she were still shivering in the cold night air as she partook in her own forbidden fruit, damning herself and by proxy, the beautiful monstrosity she created.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gently, she pressed that hand, strong, </span>
  <em>
    <span>menacing,</span>
  </em>
  <span> the color of mold and ivy and cursed with the strength and </span>
  <em>
    <span>motivation</span>
  </em>
  <span> to kill her many times over, that very same hand, to her cheek and sighed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Stay.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It was a useless command that this personal serpent planned to follow anyway. Where else would he go? Where else in all the world would he find comfort? </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>For he who could endure even the ends of the earth, even the harshest pangs of hunger and thirst, he whose natural enemy was all mankind, whose both power and countenance shook man to his core and planted fear and disgust within him, where would such a beast find shelter but in the arms of his creator?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Rain pelted against the feeble roof of the cabin they took refuge in, the day coming to an end in a dreary foggy evening, reminiscent of the storms Victoria Frankenstein so admired in her youth. However, the weather no longer filled her with ambition nor a fascination with nature, but with a bitter reminder of how much she had lost, of how far she had fallen. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It was a painful feeling, remorse, unbefitting a scientist of her status. More than anything, she wished she were rid of it entirely. If she could remove it from her soul, that </span>
  <em>
    <span>humanity</span>
  </em>
  <span>, the very same humanity that she had pleaded to retain before it all, when she was foolish and thought she could not fall yet farther… </span>
  <em>
    <span>what a naive fool she was then…</span>
  </em>
  <span> she would remove it without hesitation. But, the ways of the soul were not so simple. Pain entwined with pleasure, happiness with despair. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She simply longed to </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel </span>
  </em>
  <span>again. Her old ambition, her drive, her love of life, she grieved it so. It was all stifled by regret, symptoms of humanity, complex and insurmountable. She knew no matter how much time passed, she would never be rid of it. Not really.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>More than anything, she longed if nothing else to simply stop looking so<em> desperately</em> to the past when it could give her nothing but pain.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And her only recourse was naught but the very same wretch that caused it all, now her only companion.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She held his hand to her face and murmured sweet nothings as though they were not murderers. As if they were not mourners. As if they were not </span>
  <em>
    <span>guilty.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As if they were but lovers, safe from the world they had burned.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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